


Love Me

by rainniedays



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, broken souls are complicated, import from ffnet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:55:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainniedays/pseuds/rainniedays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What existed between them wasn't love, and that was supposed to be just fine. They were just two torn souls trying to heal. So why did Ichigo suddenly feel like this wasn't enough anymore?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Me

 

_\---_

_It wasn’t love…_

 

 

Kisuke wrapped his arms around the teen, drawing the lean body closer to him as he pressed a kiss to the exposed neck. Ichigo, despite his tiredness, was all too willing to let himself into the strong and easing embrace. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the cleanly white scent just as his body nuzzled itself against the gorgeous frame, enjoying the quiet solace that had magically settled within him. It was as if his soul was trying to absorb the other man himself, together with everything he could give.

 

 

This was not simple yearning.

 

  

_…he knew…_

 

 

Kisuke’s presence soothed his soul in a way words simply couldn’t describe. The blonde could calm his bleeding heart and ease his suffering, simply by just being there. The fractures encasing his existence could only heal when he was with him, however slowly it might be. The nightmares and shadows of horror from the war fought only so recently could only be staved whenever the other’s dominating presence was around.

  

 

_…he needed him…_

 

 

And fortunately for Ichigo, the blonde seemed willing enough to lend his presence to him whenever possible. He was not so imperceptive as to not realize that he was not the only person who needed mending, whose subsistence needed repairing. Like him, Kisuke was trying his best to heal, to recover the vitally missing pieces of his soul. They were like two people, dying and yet inexplicably still breathing, living through each other.

 

 

_It was simply…a necessity…_

 

 

Still, within the very core of his mind, a rational part of him constantly reminded him that this was wrong. The relationship between him and Kisuke was simply not right.

 

 

_It wasn’t real…_

 

 

Ichigo had tried to ignore the voice assiduously, by firmly telling himself that he needed this, that he was hurting, that he had no choice. He was  _broken_ , and Kisuke was the only one who could salvage the pieces. It was merely two impaired people- or more accurately, shinigami seeking the solace that could only be found from each other.

 

 

_This…this was false happiness…_

 

 

The logical part of him refused to back down so easily by raising questions that Ichigo had desperately wanted to avoid; on what basis was their relationship being built upon? Was it merely hurt and pain?

 

 

Why should it matter anyway?

 

 

_It mattered…it mattered…because this wasn’t love…_

 

 

Love. It was a notion that Ichigo did not even dare to conceive. He knew with perfect lucidity and clarity that what existed between them was anything but love. The war was what bought them together. The chaos and the death forced them to fight closely side by side. The need to deal with the ceaseless pain brought about an unearthly relationship that Ichigo wouldn’t have imagined possible under any other circumstances. This was a relationship that clearly lacked any touch of reality.

 

 

Love was never part of the deal. And yet now…

 

 

_Somehow…strangely…this wasn’t enough anymore…_

 

 

Unconsciously, Ichigo clung a little harder to the body next to him, causing the other to look down at him with a mixture of surprise and worry. Startled greenish gray pupils were met by a pair of despairing brown.

 

 

“Is something wrong, Ichigo?” Kisuke asked, concern lacing his tone as one arm tightened around the boy, while the other softly stroked the wild orange hair.

 

 

_This wasn’t love… it wasn’t…_

 

 

“N-nothing”, Ichigo said quickly, instinctively arching into the touch, knowing well enough that he was being stupid, being greedy, and being terribly selfish. He was closed to dying inside…and this man was saving him by being there for him constantly, even though he had no obligation to do so. He couldn’t- shouldn’t ask for more.

 

 

_Since when…did it start to hurt…like this…_

 

 

And yet, a part of him…couldn’t stop wishing…couldn’t stop hoping. He used to love Kisuke like he loved those around him; his family, his friends. He used to just cherish them as they were, with what he could give, and as much as his feelings allowed. It was hard to pinpoint precisely when his feeling was first altered. But somehow, that form of love had intricately... _changed_.

 

 

And now, he didn’t just love him anymore.

 

 

_…he was in love with him…_

 

 

Ichigo knew love was a wondrous sentiment. It was a blessing, to be able to love and be loved in return. The unconstrained joy and infinite happiness that such a simple emotion could conjure was like magic, a miracle in itself. And yet, this war had ruthlessly shown him how much love could hurt, should you ever lose it. It was like a curse bidding its time to act, to exploit, because Ichigo knew perfectly well that nothing was eternal in this world. No matter how much he loved, once day, he would lose them.

 

 

_Was it even worth it…?_

 

 

“You’ve never been a good liar, you know”, Kisuke replied casually, trying not to sound intrusive. He pressed a light kiss onto the younger teen’s forehead, gently coaxing him to reveal his problems. This was Kisuke, always so concerned, always worrying, always so caring. Is it…could it possibly be…that he…

 

 

_Don’t be stupid…he didn’t love you…_

 

 

“Kisuke…” Ichigo called lightly, as he gazed into those startlingly clear orbs. His hands reached out to touch the striking face that he had unconsciously come to love more than he ever should, feeling the rough and supple lips his fingers had long memorized, caressing the firm and yet smooth skin. And every contact, every stroke, sent an electrifying sensation rippling through him.

 

 

It made him feel oddly alive. But he shouldn’t…he really  _shouldn’t…_

 

 

“Yes, Ichigo?” Kisuke asked expectantly as he responded inaudibly to Ichigo’s delicate touch, using his lips and tongue to nip those coarse fingers. He shifted their bodies together; seeking more friction, more heat as he imperceptibly encouraged the other to continue.

 

 

_Please…_

 

 

“Love me, Kisuke”

 

 

_Love me…just love me…_

 

  _\---_

 

 Very slowly importing old fics here. thanks for reading.


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